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p a  l  l  a  s    b  l  i  s  h  w  i  c   k pure | seventh | seventeen slytherin heir purist 【 oc hp!verse ✜ post!marauder era ✜ indie rp 】

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Is it better to out-monster the monster or to be quietly devoured?

Friedrich Nietzsche   (via likeafieldmouse)

[pallasblishwick]

honeybadgercooper:

Quiet fury isn’t easy to deal with. It doesn’t sit well, because the offended mind can’t form a connection between physical and emotional anger. Confusion heightens the fear; it makes silent rage all the more deadly. His voice, soft yet deadly, pours itself like ice water down her back. She feels her arms growing goosebumps. The mention of the recent war is a nice way to turn the knife. Pallas Blishwick knows how to hurt. Gracie wonders if it’s a natural born gift, or something learned. She’s not sure if she wants to find out; people stewed in hatred are hard to convince of anything. She doesn’t know if she’s strong enough to push against people like that until they break. If they are capable of breaking. The flash of horrid fear blinds her for a split second. She sees the girls and boys she looked up to’s faces in the paper, headlines reading ‘Murdered' or 'Family Slaughtered' or 'The Dark Lord Strikes Again’. 

❝There are no ‘forms’ of justice, Pallas,❞ she whispers quietly, looking up at him with wide, honest eyes. She turns quickly to the board to hide any other reactions to the people he referenced, though her fingers continue to rub the mark on her chest. ❝there’s right and wrong. I guess what you interpret as right and wrong can be interpreted differently, but…there’s only one answer to a situation in the end.❞ Her mouth lifts to smile slightly. It’s the only way she knows to cope; her mother taught her to grin whenever she felt sad or alone. Bodies could trick the mind into anything, her mother said. And on the surface, a smile does help. For now, at least. 

Maybe she shouldn’t have said ‘within reason’. But he did ask honestly. She would have liked to convince herself that yes, everyone would follow the right path eventually, but it wasn’t realistic. She was trying to teach herself how to be more practical. Less idealistic. People who wouldn’t change by themselves could be changed by others, though. Which was why she hadn’t outright said ‘no’. She believed most people were a ‘yes’, and others a ‘yes, within reason’. ❝Exactly, Pallas. They’re capable.❞ Gracie replies, putting unnecessary fixes to the papers. ❝And I know it is, but I’d rather believe in my causes than nothing at all. Future me will understand if I can’t fix everything I set out to do.❞

Irksome. Glancing away from her, his expression shifts into one of cold indifference, his thoughts withdrawing in on themselves. It is likely they could argue all day. Cynicism versus idealism. Passive aggressive versus aggressive passivity. He is hit with a spark of hatred for her stubbornness. And for his own.

But she has already won hasn't she? The outcome of their generation's war shifting and molding history towards the other sides benefit. His father was in the midst of his third inquiry this year, the Blishwick estate had been shamefully searched for 'dark artifacts',  twice. All in the name of smoking out the last few straggling Death Eaters in order for the Ministry to appear to all the world as though they' were actually doing something in the aftermath. It did not matter, to anyone really, if they actually deserved it, but Pallas' indignation had never felt more righteous. Dwelling on it, he reminds himself of the root of his own frustrations. There is little point to his anger, he is not an emotional, pathetic Gryffindor jumping to the offensive at every disagreement. And in a calculated stroke, Pallas kicks his own brain into the mindset of yielding opponent. ❝Right and wrong is not measurable. It is based solidly on opinion, and perspective.❞ There. His voice his blank, soft but not angry. He is once again retreating into the cool safety of rational debate. No more outbursts. The return to control allows for a thin-lipped, almost apologetic smile to meet her own half-hearted grin. The thought of her trying to read his rapidly shifting, hot then cold, responses makes for some genuine humor behind the smile. ❝Everyone believes their way to be the right way. But with so many differing opinions and versions of the truth, what do you mean there is 'one answer'?❞ 

A brief flicker of emotion, d o u b t, before his brows furrow and he stares at her, gaze stiff and full-force. ❝What if you achieved nothing? Hypothetically, it's a valid outcome. --Surely you would feel some remorse, some inkling of dissatisfaction? You must have some other ambitions besides philanthropy? Something for yourself?❞ And, in all honesty, he is genuinely curious. 

Before she can answer, however, her movements once again draw his eye and he sighs. ❝... --Rubbing it that way draws attention to it,❞ he nods to her habit, her hand continuing to rove over that scar, and his own hand twitches to still her fingers in his  annoyance. So open and forthright, hadn't he already warned her of someone taking advantage?

[pallasblishwick]

to do ;

pallas - gracie

pallas - thijs

robyn - gracie

[pallasblishwick]

thisisthijs:

Pulling a cigarette from behind his ear, the Dutchman offers up a rather untrustworthy grin, brown eyes glinting impishly as he responds in the most professional manner a seventeen-year-old boy is capable of. ❝It all depends on the audience. So I suppose the question you should be asking is if that pitch works for you, my friend.❞

❝Not particularly. --And, we're not friends.❞ He snarks. By principle, he is unamused, but the thin line of his mouth is cracking, the corner lilting just the smallest bit. Wyckoff is a nuisance. A nuisance that had somehow attached itself to him like... a fungus, or... a bad smell. On reflex, Pallas draws his wand and lights the end near the other boy's fag. ❝Although, your product does seem to be aimed towards the exceptionally dimwitted.❞

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I’m just getting started, let me offend The devil’s got nothing on me, my friend All I want is to be left alone Tact from me is like blood from a stone

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100 pictures —> Paul Wesley

[pallasblishwick]

honeybadgercooper:

Grace notes the negative reaction Pallas has towards her suggestion; like most of the other Slytherin students she’s asked to call her Gracie, he rebukes the idea with disdain and thinly veiled disgust. The glares and the eye rolls bother her enough to make her shoulders tense up around her ears, the back of her neck tingling uneasily. This is only a fraction of what Clyde felt, she berates herself vehemently. And he got on with his life, even with the stigma. She tells herself these things to motivate her, to fuel the passion she feels for the people who live full lives, struggling with burdens far heavier than hers. It works especially well when she thinks of her brother. Later, she can go up to her dormitory and cry about his mockery, when she doesn’t have a million duties to fulfill. 

There’s a sad, special smile she reserves for those who can’t comprehend why she does what she does. Not many know the true reason, yes, but they can wrap their heads around the concept of selflessness. Pallas, Grace sees, cannot. ❝ Well, it’s more complicated than that, ❞ she responds, smiling that sad smile and shaking her head. She turns to the board and continues to post notices, this time for Prefects. ❝ and people do charity work for reasons other than a reward, or peace and harmony. Some people want justice for a cause or a group of people they believe in. ❞ She reaches up on her tip-toes to post a large notice on the top of the board. When her hands are empty, she stands back and regards her handiwork. Her thumb runs over and over a thin, barely visible white scar on her collarbone.  

 ❝ It’s nice to see you care about me, Pallas, ❞ she jokes vaguely, looking him over with an amused glance. Door mat — ah, just another moniker seemingly reserved for Hufflepuffs. ❝ but I promise, I’m not being taken advantage of. And yes. Yes, I would trust you. Within reason. ❞ Gracie leaves it as that, knowing any further explanation would devolve the conversation into an argument.

Slytherins, for all their intents are purposes, are astute. Narrowing in on the smallest detail to to extract knowledge of a person's character or motivations for their own needs. And he catches the tick, her absentminded rubbing of a scar. Complicated, indeed. He'd like to pry, to wedge himself in the crack she's mistakenly revealed then force her to expose what's beneath, --if only to prove a point. Strike the right nerve and most people would snap, Gryffindors being the easiest to push, of course. But he manages to catch the expression behind her smile, and it gives him pause.

                           P i t y? 

❝Justice...❞ His eyes darken, and he churns with growing fury while reading the fliers properly, 'house this', 'clothe that', 'feed them'. All her charity cases. --Yet here she dares to look at him like that? As though he could never understand, or is missing out on something. And they said only Slytherins could feel superior. Pride gnaws at his insides, and he bitterly looks away from her. She is no longer a game, and although his eyes linger on her collarbone he can't control his furious energy into pulling her out. He lashes out in his own way, with his words soft, and his mouth twisted into a sneer. ❝I seem to recall another group who was interested in preserving their beliefs and ideals. But I'm sure your own form of justice is infallible, Miss Cooper. ❞  It was likely the wrong thing to bring up, people were so touchy about the last few years. With good reason. But the thought of her unnecessary sympathy fills him with a need to separate himself, to build a wall even if it means making himself the villain.

His voice hardens, and he gives her a dark look, determined that she should take her damnable compassion and put it somewhere else. ❝--You shouldn't.❞ There's a pause where he starts at the unintended threat behind the words, and feeling shockingly.... ashamed, Pallas pushes away from the wall with a wince. He really shouldn't blanch at the smallest of harshities. They are meant to hate each other, it's only natural given the fairly recent political history and inter-House relations. Perhaps a bucket of water had been tossed on the old hatreds, but that didn't mean pieces wouldn't continue to smolder in the aftermath. In fact, their interaction had been fairly civil until now, given everything. But even still, he feels the need to explain himself. ❝... Everyone is capable of dreadful things. Better to be prepared, then shocked. Your... optimism, is impractical.❞

[pallasblishwick]

honeybadgercooper:

❝ It’s Gracie, Pallas. And I wasn’t going to lecture you. Only pointing out the difference between action and inaction. ❞ An impatient person (see: the Gryffindor house) would’ve snatched the flier out of his grip and yelled at him to move. Hufflepuffs, in Grace’s mind, could understand people sometimes better than they could themselves. If left to stew, Slytherins could move to help. Even if they did it for amusement. Gracie smiles; she needs to remove the old posters before she can post new ones, but Pallas has moved out of his way on his own accord. Perfect pacifistic strategy. The hippies would be proud. ❝ Thank you, ❞ she says honestly, unpinning the lost and found notices and chuckling a bit to herself at the things people had lost. A couple toads, the odd jumper, a pocket-watch from gran, a journal. Grace blanches to think of how embarrassed and horrified she’d be if her own diary made its way into the hands of someone else. She’s about to pin a ‘Centaur Rehabilitation’ poster up when Pallas asks her a question. In mid-pin, she frowns and contemplates the words on the purple piece of paper. ❝ I wouldn’t say it’s thankless, ❞ Grace argues, turning her head to Pallas. ❝ but even so, you’re not supposed to look for gratitude. People help others because it’s a lesson in humility. There’s no community without it. Just a bunch of people who hate each other because of their differences, forced to co-habitate. ❞

There is a flicker as he blinks, his entire person processing and rejecting the informality. Over his dead body would he refer to an acquaintance as anything other than their last name. They are not friends. They are barely even civil. But he says nothing, only to side-eye her whole damnable nature with a  sharp glance of revulsion. Pallas' arms cross over his chest, ignoring the politeness and instead watching the Hufflepuff organize the bulletin board, just another display of those oh-so obliging, selfless, and somewhat pathetic House traits. It's enough altruism to produce an eye roll.  ❝And you're just supposed to have faith that your little 'community' will return the favor? Because that's your reward, isn't it? Peace and harmony?❞ A muscle jumps in his cheek, the set of his jaw tightening into a hard line as he turns to face her fuller. Not sure what exactly is so infuriating about the whole thing, his frustration seems to spiral. Illogical annoyance breeding further annoyance. But he's not a loose canon, and although he is annoyed, he isn't angry. Merely disdainful. He looks away, his stare roving over the various causes and charities, pinned over the bulletin board in varying boldness of colors that this, at least somewhat, intelligent witch was wasting her time with. ❝You present yourself as the door mat, people will take advantage, Cooper. Don't tell me you're naive enough to just trust anyone. You'd trust me to do the 'right thing'?❞

[pallasblishwick]

honeybadgercooper:

Gracie’s smile turns closed lipped, and she allows Pallas to swipe one of the fliers in her hands. This has happened so many times with so many different people over the years that it doesn’t bother her anymore. ❝Well,❞ she says teasingly, pondering over the other fliers in her hands. ❝you just picked the first thing off the top. There are goblins to provide homes for, house elves to feed, centaurs to rehabilitate…if mermaids aren’t your thing, maybe those are better?❞ 

❝Though,❞ she adds. ❝All of these are better than doing nothing, Pallas.❞

❝Ugh. I think I'd like to fast-forward through the lecture on morality, Cooper.❞ Pallas was not a good person, by any stretch of the imagination, but he had always seemed to find Grace Cooper's multiple self righteous, social justice, do-gooder campaigns especially exasperating. He shifts aside, absently sticking the pilfered flier to the board over a few lost and found notices from last year, and right next to the new Hogsmeade schedule. ❝There. A contribution.❞ His chin tilts proudly, the mocking grin shifting into honest amusement for a few milliseconds before sliding back once again. He leans heavily against the wall in his new spot, continuing to watch her with a smug, albeit disapproving gaze. Selflessness, disturbing and yet fascinating in the same breath, the thought of spending more of your thoughts on others than yourself churning his gut unpleasantly. But Dumbledore had certainly made his point by picking such an odd one to 'lead the masses', this year particularly. Eyes narrowing, Pallas struggles to not curl his lips as his stare turns more skeptical. ❝... --What's the point of all the thankless effort, anyways?❞

[pallasblishwick]

thisisthijs:

Granted, it isn’t the sort of clientele he usually picks from the crowd, but at the moment he’s feeling rather ballsy. ❝Mr. Blishwick   May I call you Blishwick?   You see, I have recently learned that a hefty percentage of our school, sixth and seventh years specifically, have encountered somewhat of a writer’s block in terms of essays. Grades are dropping, quality is becoming ridiculously scarce, and … quite frankly, it seems our peers have given up all hope in their creative ability. Luckily, I have come up with a little something that may help. The Automatic Wizarding Writing Utensil, or as I prefer to call them, AWWUs. For the price of three galleons, you receive a package of not one, but two, charmed quills to answer any open-ended or long response question correctly. And for a small additional handful of galleons, you may also receive a quill that will write your entire essay for you. Grades vary in price, of course, but the charms are undetectable and may prove useful even for recreational use. So what do you say, my friend? Will you help shed light on these otherwise dark and dreary times? ❞  

Silent through the entirety of Wyckoff's spiel, despite his complete lack of interest for the product, Pallas lets the silence stretch on for a few tense seconds before giving the boy a thin smile. ❝... And- tell me. Does that pitch usually work for you?❞ 

[pallasblishwick]

honeybadgercooper:

A few of the new prefects have come up to her after dinner, begging her to be able to escort the new-ish first years to their dormitories. Wearily, Grace nods and asks some of the quieter sixth year prefects to switch their duties around, shaking her head with some amusement at the ferocity with which the fifth year prefects conduct themselves with. It reminds her of her, back then. She walks over to the communal message board outside the Great Hall to post notices. Pallas Blishwick is conveniently in her way. She smiles in a vaguely kind manner, and nods to the board. ❝I need the board,❞ she says, raising her eyebrows. In her hand are a bunch of fliers, including her latest cause: cleaning up polluted mermaid lakes in the Scottish Highlands.

Glancing behind him, he pauses before turning back towards the fellow seventh year with a raised brow and a steely smirk. But he doesn't move, instead reaching for one of her fliers. His movement is dramatic-- mocking, as his fingers pluck the top page from the stack. The corner of his mouth twitches as he reads the title, laughing at her. ❝Really? We've just gotten back, Cooper. Don't you have better things to do than worry about mermaids?❞ 

[pallasblishwick]

Avoiding the chaos of the after dinner rush, Pallas stood off on the fringes of the Great Hall, calmly studying the passing gaggle of fifth years whose giggling thrummed in his ears. He had not thought he was so absorbed, but the presence that appears at his side, whether they'd been there all along or for only a few moments, surprised him. ❝Can I help you?❞ he drawls, but the rudeness seems to lack its usual fire.

[edroste]

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